


What Sacred Games

by ladybretttashley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Hermione Granger, Canon Divergence - Post-Hogwarts, Chthonic Gods, Dark Magic, Deviates From Canon, F/F, F/M, M/M, Old Gods, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Hermione Granger, Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), REALLY deviates from canon, Slow Burn, confused bisexuals, many relationships, not all at once i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29922618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybretttashley/pseuds/ladybretttashley
Summary: They say that when a prayer is answered it comes not in a mighty wind or devouring flame, but in a gentle whisper. Narcissa’s prayer was answered that night not by a surge of magic or valiant young champion but by the whisper of the Goddess commanding the shadows of death.For such a priceless gift, she would have to pay. They would all pay.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Daphne Greengrass, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Theodore Nott/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	What Sacred Games

* * *

_Voldemort is dead. Voldemort remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? Who will wipe this blood off us? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?_ _-_ {v v bastardised} Nietzsche

* * *

**Narcissa remembers.**

_It started with a whisper._

Narcissa Malfoy had seen enough. As much as Malfoy Manor was her husband’s ancestral property and birthright, it was her _home_. Two years ago she vowed that she would be damned to Hades before she watched some half-blood with an inflated ego take it from her, powerful as he might have been. Still, before her he stood that morning, playing every bit the humble guest as he commandeered the west wing of the manor.

“Lady Malfoy, I could not be more honoured by your extending of an invitation to me.” Tom Riddle, much older than when Narcissa had last seen him, said, inclined his head in respect to the young mistress of the house. “Of course, I can assure you that your home will be put to good use and that you will scarcely notice my presence. I do, as I’m sure Lucius has informed you, intend to spend the upcoming weeks on the continent.”

Damn him. Of course Lucius had told her, not that she’d let it show. She arched a brow in surprise and glanced towards her husband, who flanked the dark wizard.

“No, my Lord,” she spoke carefully, “I was unaware.”

His eyes flashed in amusement at the couple.

“Very well, then. I expect your elves are capable of removing any _superfluous_ items before my return.” He crinkled his nose as he waved his hand half-heartedly in the direction of Lucius’ desk. It was covered in the young Lord Malfoy’s personal effects: a quill and inkwell Narcissa had given him on their fifth anniversary, an unanswered letter from Draco, a goblin-fired crystal firewhiskey decanter.

Lucius called his personal elf and instructed him to move his belongings from his study to the library. The couple’s guest departed not long after, leaving behind the threat of return at any moment. 

“Lucius!” Narcissa’s exclamation came out more shrill than she intended. “Your study? Draco’s rooms? _Our suite?_ How could he possibly see these as reasonable requests?”

“He doesn’t see them as requests at all, ‘Cissa.” He sat in his plush desk chair for what felt like the last time, and wrinkled his brow, ageing before Narcissa’s eyes. “It’s punishment, I believe, for not being the first follower back by his side.”

“Not that he wouldn’t have made the same demands if I had been,” he added, with little extra thought.

“When will he—”

“I don’t know, but he is looking for someone. I cannot say much more except that he has already been searching for them for some time.”

“And Draco? How soon will it be before he demands him, too?”

Lucius looked away. Narcissa blinked back tears as she turned towards the door. She had had enough.

Narcissa laid awake in bed that evening without an answer.

How could she sleep knowing the future her boy faced? Like Lucius, he was about to be sold into a life of risk and punishment and unspeakable horror, paying another’s debt. Paying Abraxas’ debt, the miserable sod. 

According to Lucius, the man had been miserable since before he was born. He was an early supporter of the Dark Lord and was frequently taken away from the family on missions. By the time Lucius had entered Hogwarts, he was promised to his father’s master. By the time he was Draco’s age, he had been branded. 

To this day, there were parts of his servitude that Lucius refused to speak of. How could Narcissa subject her own son to such a life? A promise of a future marred by secrecy. 

Tom had drive unlike that of any other man she had met and an unmatched tenacity — the kind that could bring him back from the literal grave — not to mention his charisma and sheer power. Unfortunately for him, a few years’ disappearance had done little for his cause. Perhaps those desperate or deranged enough to need to cling to his words did, but few others found his promise of a traditional Wizarding World promising anymore. She hoped beyond hope that this generation had been raised wiser than to fall prey to his promises of glory, singularity, greatness.

That night, she whispered a prayer to someone, anyone, but mostly to herself. She repeated the words, counting the chain links on her necklace like rosary beads until she found sleep.

Cassiopeia Black bent one knee to the altar before her. In a hushed prayer, well-known and loved, the woman whispered a few words to light the candles surrounding her. Pillars of varying height illuminated the dank room. Golden candlelight reflected off her just-graying hair and bounced off the clusters of black tourmaline, hematite and moonstone. 

“Divine crone, singular in wisdom,

Ferrier of wandering souls and guardian of doorways,

Counsel my step!

Mother of witches, 

Before these crossroads— ”

_Scccccchhhhh._

The door dragged against the stone floor as a lithe frame pushed its way into the small chapel. Unsuspecting blue eyes met Cassie’s in awe and terror. The witch kneeling beside her altar was gleaming with power. She brought a finger to her lips and hushed the girl in front of her.

_It is not yet your time, young flower. You will find your way back to me in your darkest hour._

Narcissa startled after what felt like mere moments when the morning light sprawled over her face. She found the words still on her lips. In her dreams, she had heard them as she did when she was a mere child of sixteen, as if they were carried on a gust of wind. 

It had been many years since the chapel at Malfoy Manor had been used, perhaps since her Great Aunt Cassiopeia’s practice. Cassie had been a _rather good friend_ of Septimus Malfoy’s wife — Lucius’ grandmother — and had been granted her own suite in the manor after years of visits.

Cassiopeia Black had been a staunch traditionalist. The old ways had been long-abandoned, but she was a last hanger-on. A pagan.

The word felt strange on her tongue. It rolled around in her brain like a slur, a defamation, echoing off the walls of her mind and leaving a bitter impression. It wasn’t a topic much discussed in polite company. 

Cassie would’ve changed that if she could. When she was young, the rites of the sabbats were still celebrated by most traditional families. Marriages arose from Lupercalian contracts. Family altars to the old gods were common. Offerings were left and dedications made so as to stay in the gods’ favour, and to hopefully allay some of their more murderous tendencies.

Perhaps if Narcissa had remembered some of those tales things would be different now. Perhaps, then, she might have taken it more seriously when, on her next walk through the gardens, she heard the chime of faerie bells. Perhaps, then, the growing sense of unease that accompanied the nighttime’s resonant whispers would have scared her off, rather than drawing her in.

Her first prayer before her great aunt’s altar was innocuous enough. Surely, there could be no harm in setting a few candles ablaze and saying a small thank you. Morning by morning, as she retreated into the quiet of her predecessor’s temple, her prayers grew from thank yous to pleases. She thanked the Maiden for her valour, the Mother for her understanding, the Crone for her wisdom. And then: _Please not him. Please anyone but him._

The true weight of her request revealed itself to Narcissa at a most inopportune moment. In a final clashing of worlds, she found herself in a shattered hall amidst a confrontation between Tom Riddle and the young Harry Potter. Such courage and defiance for a child. She hoped her Draco might find that sort of strength to endure the hard life before him, whichever way the wind blew. Then, as if she’d summoned it herself, her son’s name fell from the lips of the Order’s champion.

The chaos around her became a bleary portrait. _Please not him. Please anyone but him._

Her eyes shifted to the reptilian monster before her. Her focus solely on what he would say next.

“… and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy.”

There was not enough air in the world to stop the crushing suffocation of such a proclamation. Of such a _promise_ to come for her son.

_Please not him. Please anyone but him._

They say that when a prayer is answered it comes not in a mighty wind or devouring flame, but in a gentle whisper. Narcissa’s prayer was answered that night not by a surge of magic or valiant young champion but by the whisper of the Goddess commanding the shadows of death.

For such a priceless gift, she would have to pay. They would all pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for coming along for this ~journey~ lmao
> 
> next chapter coming by the end of the week
> 
> for more info or to be my friend visit me at https://ladybretttashley.tumblr.com/


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